


The Beginning of the End

by captain_bucky_writesaswell



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: A lot of Hurt, A lot of pain, F/M, Gen, Healing, Some crying, lotta love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_bucky_writesaswell/pseuds/captain_bucky_writesaswell
Summary: What happens when Teresa ends up in the hands of Devon Finch? And how does everything get to be okay in the end?My version of how season 4 could go down - with some extra storylines thrown in to keep things interesting (hopefully).What exactly is it about? Well you'll have to wait and see :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!  
> I'm not very good at writing long chapters so theres some long ones and some shorter ones (there are 10 in total).  
> The beginning of this story is what i can potentially see happening in season 4 to save james, and then i drift off into my own world for a bit before coming back to how teresa's story will potentially end, enjoy :)

Darkness. Pitch black darkness.

There’s no sound. It’s cold, too cold.

Teresa could feel the strip of dark cloth they’d wrapped around her as a blindfold begin to loosen itself in her hair. She didn’t know where she was, but she knew exactly who took her and how she got there. She’d counted every second since they grabbed her and threw her into the back of a dark SUV, counting the seconds since the engine started until it officially stopped. It was almost exactly a seventeen minute drive. They’d handcuffed her hands together once they’d forced her onto the backseat, leaving her fingers still available to count the minutes.

She’d given up struggling against the people handling her once they’d got her into this room, re-handcuffing her instead to a chair. If it were made of wood, she would have tried to break it to free her hands and feet by now. But it was solid metal, there was no getting herself out of this one. Instead, she waits. Waits for what feels like hours for something to happen. She wonders if her kidnapping was planned or a spur of the moment affair. If she was expected to be brought here, something would have happened by now, surely?

A creaking comes from directly ahead of her, and she hears the heavy tread of footsteps coming closer before the door is creaked back the other way and pulled shut. She can sense the presence of someone beside her. It's only a moment before the blindfold is being lifted from her face, snagging in the back of her hair on its way, causing her to wince in pain. Her eyes don’t readjust quickly enough to the brightness of the light, forcing her to close her eyes and turn her face away from the lamp above her. Whoever is in there with her isn’t in her view.

She manages to open her eyes and scan around what she can see of the room. She’s sitting about ten foot away from the door opposite her. There’s a single old industrial lamp dangling from the middle of the ceiling, letting out a dim, yellowish kind of light. The walls are covered with metal sheets, bouncing the little light around the room. The floor is a worn out concrete, she must have been one of hundreds of people unfortunate enough to be sitting here, given by the vast amount of scuff marks are on the floor.

Teresa remains silent, she wasn’t in a mood to beg for her life right now. Her breathing heavy as she stares out in front of her, not showing any emotion on her face. 

“We meet again, Miss Mendoza.”

She hears the familiar voice from behind her, then footsteps making their way around to reveal Devon Finch standing before her, the front of him being lit by the lamp. He’s in his usual attire, dark blue suit with matching tie. Their expense stops him from having to get his hands dirty.

“What do you want Devon?” Teresa says bluntly, always straight to the point.

Devon scoffs - “El Santo.”

Teresa should have expected that response. She rolls her eyes and tilts her head away before returning her attention to him, “You know I can’t give you El Santo. He’s dead, you bombed him in Bolivia.” She says with assurance in her voice. She watches him as he lowers his head and begins to move around the room.

Devon puts a hand up to his beard, the way James used to do — “well, you see Teresa, we searched every inch of that compound and, well.. we never found El Santo’s body. Not in any of the buildings or the surrounding grounds.” Teresa diverts her eyes away from him, already knowing what he’s probably going to tell her next. “So you see why that puts me in a difficult situation Teresa, because by our accounts, El Santo is still alive.”

He’s positioned himself next to her, almost too close for her liking. She reaches her chin up to lookhim straight in the eye — “And you’re going to help us kill him.”

She knew that was coming. The one thing Devon has ever wanted from her while she’s been in power is a connection to El Santo. Devon can see the cogs start to turn in her mind as he watches her like a hawk.

“You work for the government, don’t you?”

Devon says nothing, just narrows his eyes at her and puts a smug half-smile on his face.

Teresa shakes her head at him, before looking away across to the other corner of the room, clenching her jaw and biting down on the side of her cheek. “And what if I say no?” she turns back to him, “what happens then?”

Devon’s eyes drop to the ground in front of her, before beckoning up with his hand towards the door. Teresa presumes his sign is to a camera somewhere in a corner where she can’t see. She watches his hand as it moves up, before quickly turning her head towards the sound of the door creaking open again. This time she can vaguely see whats happening in front of her.

A tall blonde stranger in a similar suit (but less fancy) to Devon’s walks in with another chair, the same as hers, and places it about four foot in front of her. Its only just being lit at the edge by the dull overhead lamp. The man stands still behind the chair, hooking his hands down in front of him.

Teresa tenses and her breathing becomes a little more laboured. She looks at Devon out of the corner of her eye — “what are you doing?” she releases in a hefty breath.

“Giving you an opportunity to say yes before someone gets hurt.” Teresa furrows her brows at him. What does he mean, _before someone gets hurt_. Teresa shows no sign of giving in to his offer, and so Devon stands taller, nodding at the stranger.

Teresa watches with concern as the blonde leaves to the unlit hallway on the other side of the door. Her chest putting in a lot of effort to rise and fall.

A moment passes before she hears the shuffling of footsteps outside, followed by the grunts of a struggle and then the creaking of the door as it's being opened wider. Teresa is all the while darting her eyes back and forth to Devon and the door. Her head rises a little higher as a man is fought into the room and down onto the chair before her. She can’t tell how many men brought him in. Maybe two, maybe three; but one of them remains behind to zip tie the man to the chair as the others walk out.

It’s dark. Too dark. A vague silhouette of a man in all black.

Teresa squints her eyes to try and get a better view. The tops of his feet, thighs and head are somewhat lit but the rest of him is in shadow. She didn’t need anymore than this, this was all it took for her to recognise the man she loves. It was James.

“Now Miss Mendoza, will you help us?”


	2. Chapter 2

Teresa’s face softens on James, and she can hear her own staggered breathing. How long had Devon had James? _How_ did Devon even get James? He’s the most careful person she’s ever known at covering up their tracks. Something must have gone horribly wrong after he drove away from his house that evening for him to be taken by Devon Finch.

Devon moves nearer to the closed door and flicks two switches on the wall. The overhead lamp turned off, allowing bright white lights lining most of the ceiling to come on quickly. The brightness once again making Teresa turn away to readjust her eyes. A headache was the last thing she needed right now.

The blindfold around James’ eyes prevented him from having the same reaction. The cloth gag around his mouth stopped him from shouting out loud at Devon to let Teresa go. His head turning around from side to side, his body trying to fight the binds around his hands and feet. He didn’t know what was happening. All he knew was that Teresa was here, and that this wasn’t going to be a good meeting.

In some ways, Teresa was glad of the extra light, it allowed her to see all of James, see that he was alive. See the room that they were in fully for anything that could help her, help _them_.In other ways, she hated it. The light shone down on the countless marks across his face. All of the bruises brown, blue and green, old and new. All of the cuts above his eyebrows, on his cheeks, on his neck. The dried blood on his face, in his hair and his beard.His arms were pulled behind him, but she knew that if this was what they had done to his _face_ , then the rest of him would be so much worse. She’s fighting herself to not cry, not show any more emotion, not in front of Devon Finch.

Instead, she plasters anger across her face and turns to Devon - “what did you do to him?!” she protests, the frustration in her voice is clear.

“I did nothing Teresa, he brought this upon himself. See, whilst you were jetting off to some other place, James came to meet me and-”

“What did you do?!” Teresa interrupts him more forcefully, pulling herself up further against the chair. If her pupils could change colour, they’d be blood red by now. Devon is surprised and taken back by her interruption, “I gave him an offer, and he accepted.” Teresa breathes out heavily and looks to James. All she wants to do is break free from the ties around her and hold him, comfort him, because she can see that he’s clearly been through hell. She wants to scream bloody murder in Devon’s face, but that would only make things worse.

“The mess he made in Texas, that had to be dealt with. The people I work for don’t like leaving loose ends. James was onto my operation, he was a liability to us and to our plans. So I gave him the option: to go with you to wherever you were going, knowing that we would come after him and you and everybody that works for you. Or, he could come with us, and we’d leave you and your people alone. What do you think he chose?” Teresa notes the sarcasm in Devon’s last remark.

She’s silent. How is she supposed to process this? James gave up his freedom and nearly his life _again_ to protect her, to keep her safe. He’d been stuck here for four months. She should have trusted him, believed him when he was following her through their safe house in Malta, proclaiming that _s_ ince the first day they met he was trying to keep her safe _,_ and that he was _still_ trying to. Every ‘I’ll protect you, I’ll protect us’ that he ever said was the truth. Her heart is now full of regret. Wishing she’d done things differently, wishing that she had held him more and kissed him more and assured him more often of how she felt while she still had the chance, instead of questioning him and his loyalty. Now this might be the last time she sees him again.

Teresa closes her eyes and drops her head lower to her chest. Devon walks over to James and pulls the blindfold off of his face, James’ head thrashing desperately against it as if it would make it come off of his head any faster. James’ eyes go straight to Teresa, his eyelids fluttering as he gets used to being able to see again. “This self-sacrificial man is gonna get himself killed one day for you Teresa.” Devons says as an off comment.She turns her head to Devon, “what do I have to do for you to let him go?”

James’ eyes widen. He’s not leaving here alone, not without her. He’d be happy to stay here and endure the torture for the rest of his lifetime, so long as she was safe.

“You need to bring us El Santo.”

“What should I tell him? I can’t just ask him to come to Chicago, he wouldn’t do it.” She’s shaking her head at Devon, trying to find a way out of this bargain. Meanwhile, James is wondering what he has missed of this conversation, all the while still looking at Teresa, his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour.

_I’m bound I can’t break the ties I can’t break the chair I can’t speak but I can see her she’s alive she seems smaller than I remember have I been in here so long that I’ve forgotten what it was like to hold her in my arms what is she going to do for Devon what is he going to do to her I’ll kill him if he doesn’t let her go._

“You can tell him that we have his son. Family is important to him, correct?”

Teresa simply nods her answer.

“Then you can tell him that if he wants his son to grow up with a normal life, a new name, new identity. If he wants his son to have a good honest life, then he will turn himself in. If not, then his son will grow up under the federal government, alone and in a hole like the one your man here has just been in, and _you_ can see what happened to him. El Santo will be taken by force for not complying. He is going to have to pay for his actions either way, the first option is just easier on us all.”

Teresa looks to James. He’s subtly shaking his head at her, _no don’t do this not for me I’m not worth the risk_.

“I’ll do it” she says quietly. She can’t look directly at James’ eyes, she knows what he’s thinking, how he’s telling her not to be so stupid for him.

His eyes are blazing on her as he tries to tug himself from the zip ties, but that only makes them cut into his wrists more. “Good” Devons says, gesturing up to the hidden camera like he did before.

Two large burly men come through the door within mere seconds of his signal. They grab the back of James’ chair and drag him out through the door. One man pulls a handgun out from the back of his waistband as they move him. Teresa notices this and her heart rate increases, her breathing shallows - “wait, no- stop!” she says in desperation as her eyes widen at the sight of him disappearing out of the door.

The next thing she knows, two rounds have been fired from the gun and she hears the sound of a large thud falling to the floor, the sound of metal banging down against the concrete.

“NO!” she screams, and it’s not long until she’s breathing rapidly and her eyelids start to twitch. She can feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

The two men walk back into the room with bloodied hands, and bloodied suits.

“Bringing James to you was just to convince you to side with us, killing him is to make sure you follow through on our deal.” And with that, Devon walks out of the room.

Teresa can’t speak, there’s just air trembling out from her mouth. She feels sick, her internals rising up inside of her as she grits her teeth together. She lets out a pained cry and her hands pull into fists, her body trying to double over closer to the ground. Tears falling from her eyes as the two men walk towards her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I just kill off James Valdez?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is shorter I know, but the next couple of chapters are quite a bit longer :)

Teresa has no time to grieve. From here on out, everything goes so fast.

 

The men tugged Teresa’s blindfold back onto her in a struggle — “No! Get off me pendejo!” She fights against them but to no effect. One man undoes her binds while the other grabs her by the arms and lifts her to her feet, securing her wrists back together again with a zip tie.

They drag her and she staggers forward, out of the door and down a hallway. She can’t tell exactly where she’s going, but she prays that the plan they’d set out was going to work.

 

Outside, Pote was waiting with Javier in one truck with a few men, a good enough distance down the road as to not look suspicious. Another truck was around the corner, with a few of Javier’s death squad members and a couple of his cousin Boaz’s men.

“She’s moving” Javier says to Pote, and they both watch the monitor in front of them.They had learnt their lesson from when Teresa was taken away to Mexico, with James and Pote not knowing where she was. Since they arrived in France, Teresa had gotten a small implant in her upper arm. A tracker so that Ivan, her tech guy, or Pote could find her if needed. They aired on the side of caution these days.

Suddenly, a door is being pushed open from one side of the building, and two men are pulling somebody out.

“Is that?-” Javier begins.

“James?!” Pote exclaims, recognising him immediately. He turns to Javier with the highest level of confusion. “He’s all cut up, what is he doing here?” Before he could finish his question, a door on the other side of the building is being opened, and the pair swing their heads over to watch.

“Teresa’s outside - what do we do?” Javier is almost as confused as Pote.

Pote starts the engine — “radio the others, they need to get James!” Pote shouts over the engine. This plan had now turned into a two person rescue mission.

Pote put the pedal to the floor and hurtled them towards the SUV that Teresa was being forced into, with Javier hanging out of the passenger window, all guns blazing towards Teresa’s guards.

On the other side of the building, James was just about resisting being put into a car when the Jimenez arsenal turned up. Now there was a gunfight ensuing on two of the three available sides to this apparently ‘disused’ warehouse building.

“Teresa get down!” Pote shouts as he pulls up their truck and everybody jumps out to rescue her. One man jumps from the back into the driver's seat, ready to move once they had her.

The same situation is happening on James’ side, only, he had no idea what was going on. He used the headrest of the seat in front of him to push the blindfold off of his head. He caught a few of his cuts on the way which stung his forehead, but at least he could see what was going on.

Seemingly out of nowhere, one of the Jimenez soldiers opens James’ door.

“Let’s go!” they exclaim, and James doesn’t argue.

He’s led out of the vehicle and into the back of a black van. The two men that had dragged him from the building were lying dead on the floor by their car. “We got him, we’ll meet you at the runway” somebody in the front radios to someone else, before the van starts moving with an alarming acceleration. James is in a state of unsteady confusion, his heart beating so fast he thinks it might fly out of his chest. “We got her, we’ll meet you there” he hears, muffled from the radio. He closes his eyes tight shut, and hopes that this would all be over soon.

 

James must have passed out for a while, because when he opened his eyes, his hands were being cut free from the zip ties around them, the cloth gag being pulled down from his mouth, and he was being helped out of the back of the van onto a private runway.

“We need to go, now!” he hears Pote say from around the side of another van which was pulled up next to the one James just got out of.

“James!” Teresa came running around and brings herself to a sudden halt infront of him, almost launching herself up and into his arms. “I thought they killed you-” She can’t tell if he’s scared or happy to be free, the water in his eyes starting to build up before he blinks and swallows down his emotion. Whatever they were going to say to each other, it would have to wait.

“Teresa!” she turns herself around as she sees Tony running towards her. This wasn’t just a mission to find out what Devon wanted from her. Their plan was to bring Tony home with them, now that they were somewhat set up and settled in Europe.

“How ya doin’ darlin’?”

“George-” Teresa says with in breath of relief as they wrap an arm around each other in a friendly embrace. “Thank you” she whispers into his ear.

“No problem, the ride was fun, and this little kid’s so cool!” His typical ‘Georgeness’ made Teresa let out a barely audible, soft laugh. Although, she had noticed a change in him since losing Bilal. He took a lot of things more seriously now than he used to do, but still liked to crack a dry joke every now and then. “Now you all need to run along, Devon’s not gonna let you leave this easily.” Teresa nods.

“He’s right” Javier speaks up from beside her, patting George on the shoulder at the same time.

“Let’s go” Teresa nods in the direction of their ready and waiting plane.

Pote helps Tony with his things from George’s car and then helps him up onto the plane. Javier thanks his and Boaz’s men and watches them drive off in the vans. George stands and waits by his car to wave them all goodbye.

James is reluctant to get on the plane, he’s still shook to the core about being saved when he thought that being trapped alone in a room was going to be the rest of his life.

Teresa reaches her hand out to take his, but he pulls himself away slowly before she could.

“James, we need to go” Teresa says softly to him. He looks to her, trusting in her warm eyes. He’s probably about to have a panic attack right there and then on the tarmac, but boarding the plane was the bigger priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID Y'ALL REALLY THINK I'D KILL OFF MY MAN?!?!?!  
> Tony is back! Pote is back! George is back! Javier is back!  
> JERESA ARE BACK TOGETHER YAY!  
> but what is going to happen between them...


	4. Chapter 4

They’d only just taken off into the air before James started to ask questions, his mind so confused about everything that just happened. One minute he was sitting in his cell, staring at the wall, the next, he was on a plane to who knows where. The adrenaline in his body caused him to reel questions off one after the other. 

“I don’t understand. How did you find me? Why are you in America I thought you were leaving? What the fuck just happened?” his eyes darted all over the plane, looking for some sort of answer, as he paces back and forth.

“Will you sit, please? I’ll explain everything.” Teresa goes to reach for his hand as he walks by but he pulls it away, turning around to come back and sit opposite her.

“We did leave to Europe. Last week I got a call from Boaz, he has an informant spying for him on Devon’s business in Chicago. They overheard a conversation between Devon and somebody else about me, saying that they had a plan for me. They didn’t hear all of it, but it was enough for Boaz, George and Taza to be concerned about my life, my business. We came back to sit down with Devon, but I guess he thought he’d catch me off-guard and take me before our meeting.”

“That cabrón wouldn’t have taken you if we were with you Teresita.” Pote speaks up from the other side of the plane.

“You knew the plan, _you all did_.” She gestures over at Pote and Javier. James puzzles the pieces together, remembering how smart Teresa is with her business, always one step ahead of everybody else.

“You let him take you on purpose.” James’ statement wasn’t at all too surprising to him, given some of the things that she’d done in the past. The plan was to make Devon think that he had the upper hand. He was more likely to give up incriminating information if she was somewhere he knew and trusted, surrounded by his own people. If things went wrong, Pote and Javier would have stormed the place in an instant to get her out.

“It was a risk I know, but I have a tracker implant so that these two can find me if go missing. I was never alone." Teresa explains, "But I didn’t expect you to be there, or for him to use you against me. I am sorry.” She lowers her head to try and connect her eyes to his.

“I don’t want to talk about it” he says, exhausted, pulling away and retreating into himself. Teresa respected that, and didn’t press him any further.

 

The plane became very quiet. Pote was asleep in the corner, cradling an open chocolate bar which must have been half melted in his hands by now. Tony was in the back of the cabin with his headphones in. The plane had a built-in games console which was keeping him entertained. Javier was opposite Pote, rocking his head back and forth to the loud music in his headphones, as he watched the clouds out of the window.

James was sitting across from Teresa with his head rested back. He had gone to the restroom and wiped off any of the undried blood from his face and arms before coming back to sit across from her. There wasn’t really anywhere else for him to sit. He hasn’t said anything at all since their earlier conversation after they boarded the plane, a wave of tiredness suddenly hitting him.

It had been a long time since he’d seen skylight, the sunrise coming up over the clouds was breathtaking. The last time he was on a plane, he was on his way to Malta to help her, and now she was the one rescuing him, albeit unexpected.

Teresa wondered what he was thinking, or if he was thinking anything at all. She didn’t ask any questions, just let him sit in peace and watch out of the window. But it was going to be a long journey to their safe house in rural France, and they couldn’t sit in silence forever.

 

**[5 months ago]**

“That was… amazing” Teresa says with delight as she rolls over to him.

“Well, you earned it” he says with a smile, winking at her by his side as she laughs at his proudness - “Phoenix is ours.”

“Yep” Teresa smiles with content, nestling herself into his side.

James looks down to her with the softest eyes she’d ever been set upon with. He dips his head down and kisses her passionately, running his calloused hand through her hair and then down her back, each of them letting out a quiet sigh as they break apart. James rests his head back onto his pillow, closing his eyes to get some well earned sleep (he deserved it).

Teresa looks across him out of the window, the clear night sky allowing the starlight to shine through. She had a thought and then a question, maybe now would be a good time to ask.

“If you weren’t here, didn’t have this life-” the first part of her question makes him sleepily open his eyes. “Where would you go? Anywhere in the world, where would you be?”

“Hhmmm” he sighs. _‘Anywhere with you’_ is what he wanted to say, but he knows that she won’t accept this as an answer. “My grandmother lives not too far away from Cannes, in an area called Provence. It's a wine region-” Teresa’s eyes lit up as she looked at him, he’d never told her anything about his family before "So maybe I’d go there. I haven’t been since I joined the military.” He says, surprising himself at how much information he’s giving away about his old life. He knew he’d never end up back there, the thought of it was just a fantasy. But it was still a nice thought.

Teresa sits up a little higher on her arm, cocking her head at him questioningly. “You lived in France?”

“Oui- for 6 years with my grandmother after my erm… until I was 18 and old enough to join the forces.” He diverts his eyes away from her, maybe he’s said too much.

Teresa understood what he was implying, she wasn’t the only one who had lost both of her parents because of cartels and drugs. She brings her hand up to softly stroke the side of his cheek before resting it on his chest. “Is she still there?”

He nods his head and purses his lips. “As far as I’m aware, but I honestly don’t know.”

They talked a little while longer and James gave Teresa what he can remember of the address in France. He told her that he had kept the letter that you can write for your family when you’re in the forces, a letter which gets sent to them if you die in service. He asked that if anything were to happen to him, that she would send it to his grandmother’s address. He knew that the letter was well over ten years old, but the sentiment it contained was still relevant. Teresa of course insisted that she wasn’t going to let anything happen to him, but she promised it all the same.

 

—————

“Is it going to be weird for you? Going back to France?” Teresa broke the silence and pulled James out of his stare. His turn to her was slower than usual, his eyes heavy. When was the last time he’d eaten? Or even slept for that matter? He looked into her eyes for a few seconds before answering.

“Maybe, where are we going?” he asked in return.

Teresa looked down to the table between them and eyed her coffee. He narrowed his eyes at her reluctance to answer. “Provence” she said, before returning to look up at him.

His chest fell into him a little. “I think you need to know something. When we left Phoenix we-” she sighs, not knowing how to continue with the delicate subject of James’ past. “I went to the address you gave me for your grandmother.” James’ face drops and his expression becomes somewhat saddened, _oh no what did you do Teresa?_

“She told me her name was Anne so I presumed it was her. She’s alive, still in the same house. I just wanted to make sure that she was alright, _for you_.”

James is looking down at his hands. He knows she didn’t break his trust, he asked Teresa to contact her if something happened to him, he gave her the address. He wasn’t angry with her, it just wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. She shouldn’t have gone to her because now he has to make a choice. He’d decided to let go of his old life years ago, his life before Camila. Could he really ignore it when it resurfaced now?

“We bought our safe house not too far away from where she is, only a few miles away.”

James bites down on his lip.

“Did you talk to her?” his eyes watching his hands as he scratches his fingernails with his thumb.

“Not about you, I said that I was hoping to move nearby with my son, and that I was wondering about life in the area. She was nice, she invited me in and we had these chocolate pastries and coffee.” Teresa smiles, remembering how good they tasted.

She notices that he’s being reserved about the information she’s giving him. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to tell him about what she’d done. Maybe she’d made a mistake in going to her, moving so close to her. Teresa cared for James, and so inherently cared for his family too.

“Say something, please?” she begs quietly, giving him a minute to gather his thoughts.

“Does she think I’m alive?” he looks up.

“I figured that was your decision to make, since she didn’t mention having a grandson or not.”

James nods and rests his head back onto the seat, resuming to look back out of the window.

Teresa took this as a sign to end the conversation, just as Pote snorted himself awake from his sleep.

“Ahhh mother-ffffff! Pinche-grrrr!” he lets out a little too loudly, and the whole cabin turns to look at him. He’s waffling his hands around while Teresa and Javier laugh at him. “It melted everywhere!” he huffs in a funny frustration, dropping his hands to his knees as he waves his metaphorical white flag. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he says, annoyed, throwing his chocolate stained jacket at Javier who just laughs. He gets up to throw the ruined chocolate bar in the trash and wipe his hands clean.

Teresa glances across at James, a small smile on his face at Pote’s inconvenience. It wasn’t much, but it was a start to knowing that the old James was still there. Teresa rests her head back and lets herself drift off to sleep for the rest of the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was just kind of a filler chapter... giving you a bit of backstory... but keep an eye on the details because they're not necessarily completely irrelevant...  
> ahhh had to do that funny bit with Pote at the end :D  
> the next chapter is quite long so get ready!


	5. Chapter 5

The safe house was nice. It reminded James of one of Camila’s old mansions in Mexico; with the flagstone walls and exposed wooden beams. It felt like a real home, sitting on top of light, rolling hills and in between scattered vineyards and wineries.

Pote was the first to walk through the front door, followed by Tony, Teresa, Javier and then finally James. Javier went straight to his room to shower and change. Pote put down his bags in the hallway, turning to Tony - “Come on, your room’s this way” he nodded up the stairs before grabbing Tony’s bags off of him. Tony turned to Teresa, almost as if he was asking permission to have his own room. “It’s okay, go with Pote” she smiles at Tony, as her and James watch them disappear up the curling staircase.

James was still stood in the doorway, he seemed a little unsure. Teresa looked to him, trying her best to move him forward and not let him dwell on the last 24 hours too much.

“You can use my bathroom to clean up. The guest room was renovated for Tony once we knew we were going to bring him here.”

“Thank you” James says subtly, before following Teresa up the stairs.

Her room was at the back of the top floor, with Tony’s at the other end. Pote and Javier had rooms on the middle floor. Leaving just the kitchen, living area, dining room and patio downstairs, with connections to the garages and the rear garden.

She led James into her room and threw her bag onto her bed, before cautiously taking her other bag from James’ hand and placing it next to the first bag. He may be broken, but his chivalry was still there, insisting on carrying a bag for her.

“The bathroom is through there” she says, gesturing with her hand towards a closed door. “I’ll grab some things off of Javier that you can use, and then we can get you some of your own things tomorrow.” She wasn’t going to not let him have anything of his own for too long, not after all he's been through.

He was currently wearing the same clothes that he’d been wearing for the last month, a black shirt with several small tares in, black sweatpants, and his own shoes. Somebody would come into his cell every three or four weeks and hand him some basic, clean clothes. This was the only decency they’d shown him.

Teresa gave him a small, sweet smile before leaving him be.

 

James just stood in the middle of her bedroom. He hadn’t had this much freedom in a long time, the freedom to just move around in a large space, or take a shower. He didn’t feel so trapped anymore.

He pulled his thoughts back to reality and went over into the bathroom. A towel cupboard was immediately on his right, then a sink unit with a large mirror on the wall above the basin. Opposite was the spacious walk in shower. At the other end was the large old-fashioned bathtub, facing the entrance side on. Behind it was a floor to ceiling glass window about three foot wide, looking out over a large stretch of land which had new flowers starting to pop up. The entire room was cream tiled, with light, varnished oak wooden units, cupboards and drawers.

James peeled himself out of his clothes and threw them into the bin before stepping into the shower. His body tensed, as he knew this was probably going to hurt.

 

He stood with his forearms pressed against the shower’s cream tiled wall, as the water came down onto his head and fell down his back. He watched as all of the dirt and dried blood ran down him into a pool at his feet. His head pressed against his hands, gritting his teeth as he withstands the stinging down his torn up body. After a while, he became numb to the sting and just stood in silence as the warm water washed any trace of Chicago down the drain.

 

After his shower, James made the poor decision to stand with a towel wrapped around his waist, surveying his new body in the mirror. It was going to take a lot of getting used to. Over the years he’d gradually been collecting scars and bruises and bullet holes, but nothing like this. The sight of him almost made him sick. He was thin, really thin. He swallowed down the bile that was rising up in his throat, and wrapped another towel over his shoulders to peek around the door into Teresa’s room.

Teresa had indeed been and gathered some things from Javier; deodorant, a clean shirt, sweatpants, a razor (for his now long, grown out beard) and a few other bits that she thought he might need. She’d left them neatly on the floor just to the side of the bathroom doorway.

 

James got changed and went back into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror once more. His hair hadn’t been cut in over 5 months, it was getting way to long for his liking. Ever since he joined Teresa in Malta, he’d been more conscious over how he looked, keeping himself more tidy and put together. In his head, it was just for the convenience of looking more professional for her business, but in his heart _he knew_ it was just for her. She had once made a comment many months ago about how his hair was getting too long for him. He inferred that she preferred it shorter on him, so shorter is how he kept it. _Anything to keep her happy_.

But now he’d had enough of the long hair and scraggly beard. It reminded him of how Guero looked before he died, disheveled and a mess. At least _he_ was still alive.

He reached for the electric razor first, shaving away all of the mess that had been growing from his face. He didn’t cut it too short, more like how it was when he first got to Malta, careful not to accidentally nick one of the many scabs forming from the cuts along his cheek. He had one open cut, reaching down from his cheekbone to his jaw that would definitely leave a scar, and a strip of skin where his facial hair wouldn't ever regrow. 

He watched in the mirror as all of the hair fell into the sink. As he looked down, he noticed that the effects of his harsh life had been getting to him.

A grey hair. A single... grey… beard hair. “Great” he scoffed to himself as he examined it and let it drop back into the sink.

The bathroom was small compared to the size of the bedroom attached. With just enough cupboards and drawers for all of Teresa’s things. He searched a couple of the drawers under the sink and found a pair of hair trimming scissors. Why anybody would own a pair of these, he didn’t know, but this was Teresa’s house, and Teresa’s bathroom, so he just accepted it.

“You want some help with doing that?” - James hadn’t noticed Teresa come back to her room to check on him. She stood leaning in the bathroom doorway that he’d left open.

He raised his eyebrows and looked slowly over to her, the voice of the old playful James popping into his head; _you may be beautiful and I may have feelings for you but I’m not letting you touch my hair_.

Teresa knew exactly what he was thinking, she’d seen this face before, two years ago when she told him that his hair was getting too long.

“Relax, I used to cut Guero’s hair when he couldn’t be bothered to go get it done.” She moved over to him, taking the scissors carefully from his hand.

“I shouldn’t trust you with those scissors then should I?” The corner of his mouth turning up slightly as he looks to Teresa beside him. She knew what he meant, and it made her smile. That’s what he missed most, seeing her smile at him because of one of his rubbish, sarcastic jokes. He gave in to her offer.

 

They repositioned him so that he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his legs spread apart with Teresa standing in between them. It was the only way for her short self to be able to reach to cut his hair successfully. When it came to doing the back of his head, he turned so his feet were planted in the bathtub, and he was looking at the view out of the window. _She sure did pick a nice view._

Cutting his hair didn’t take long. Teresa had felt it through her fingers enough times to know how long it needed to be at each point. She missed being able to run her hands through it. She knew how protective he was over his hair, but when they were alone together, he let her play with it, and he didn’t seem to mind that at all.

“There, all done” she says sweetly as she gently brushes the fallen hair off of the back of his neck with a washcloth. She walked away for a second to put the scissors back in the drawer, and when she returned, James was once again sitting on the edge of the tub facing her. A look of sadness mixed with relief on his face to have his hair back to how it used to be, how it was back when they were together.

“You okay?”

He says nothing as she moves slowly to him, standing at the edge of his knees. Not touching him, just being there. Her heart almost breaks as he looks up to her with watery eyes.

“Thank you.”

She gives him a small smile, before he lowers his body and head forward and rests the top of it against her, just below her chest. Teresa has to hold back a tear herself as she brings her hand to rest at the back of his head in his soft, wavy dark locks. She didn’t need to ask him what he was thankful for, she knew it was for saving him and bringing him home, for taking care of him when he didn’t want to take care of himself.

“Take my bed, get some sleep” she says softly. 

“I can’t sleep yet, and I can stay on the sofa.”

“No” she says, noticing that she said it a little too strongly than what she would have liked. She sighs — “I mean, you can if you want to. But I’d like you stay with me. Nothing has to happen, I’m not expecting anything from you just-” she stops herself before she overwhelms him with all of her emotions. He pulls his head back from her body, looking up to her.

“I want you to be comfortable, whatever you want to do.”

He nods gently and whispers again a sullen “thank you”. Teresa nods as well in return.

“Pote’s just finishing dinner. At least go get something to eat? I’ll tidy this all up.” She offers a small smile to him before he leaves to go downstairs.

She watches him as he walks out of her room. She knows that this is going to take time, the old James isn’t just going to come back overnight. He’d been through a lot and she understands this. If he needs space, then space is what they’ll give him. 

 

After dinner they were all sitting in the living room, watching French TV with James quietly translating some phrases for them every now and then. The subtitles weren’t always 100% correct. One by one, everybody left to go to bed, until it was just James and Teresa downstairs on opposite sofas.

The silence was getting a bit too much before James spoke up, “You can’t run from the CIA.”

Teresa was surprised that this is the conversation he was starting. “I’m not running.”

James looks up in slight confusion, his brows furrowing together. “We left Chicago pretty rapidly on a private jet to Europe. I’d say that was running.” His voice is low and rough, he hadn’t had this much conversation in months, and he was beginning to get tired.

Teresa shakes her head a couple of times. “I’ve talked with El Santo. He was giving himself up for his son’s freedom. Its over with them, they got what they wanted.”

“How can you be sure?” He leans forward a little further. 

“Its over.” She tries to reassure him.

“I can’t believe El Santo would do that.” He rests back, looking past Teresa and out of a window. 

Teresa angles her head to him in disbelief, “ _you_ did the same thing.”

James shakes his head and runs his fingers through what’s left of his beard — “that was different.” “No, it wasn’t-” she replies almost instantly. “You gave up everything for me.”

James brings his attention quickly back to look at her. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to bring up everything that had happened, he’d only been free from Devon Finch for two days, and he didn't need reminding. 

Teresa lets out a sigh, “I’m going to get some sleep. If you want to stay down here that's okay. There are guards outside, you’ll be safe.” James says nothing, makes no gesture, just watches her as she leaves, turning the main lights out on her way. Now he was just sitting on his own, in this big room, in this big house. He’d spent too many months sleeping only a couple of hours here and there on his own. He didn’t want to do that anymore.

 

Teresa had a quick wash and put on her pyjama top and shorts before curling up into bed. She was almost asleep when she heard her door creak open behind her.

She recognised his footsteps as he walked over. She could tell he was trying to be gentle and not wake her up.

James slid his way into her bed. The comfort of which being something that he’d longed for for so long. If this was the first decent bed he’d sleep on in four months, then he’d rather be nowhere else than beside her.

She turned her head to look over her shoulder and his eyes immediately met hers. He’d left his shirt and sweatpants on, not wanting her just yet to see fully what Devon’s people had done to him, he knew it would only upset her. She’s hesitant to move nearer to him or say anything, so she waits until he turns on his side to face her. Teresa follows his lead and does the same. They’re not too close in reality on this king sized bed, but it still feels so intimate, so personal between them. He makes the decision to reach out to her hand that's resting free on her pillow. Putting it in his and moving it into the space between them, their hands locked together.

“Goodnight Teresa” he breathes.

“Goodnight, James.”

And they both drifted peacefully off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awww so jeresa are beginning to sort things out...  
> is the peace going to last?  
> the next chapter is even longer!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is much longer than I normally write, so enjoy! :)

Somehow they’d ended up in an argument. One minute, everything was fine. The next, they were raising their voices at each other in the living room. It wasn’t aggressive, James was just frustrated. Frustrated with himself, his body, his thoughts. Teresa was just trying to understand. The last time she made assumptions about James, she hurt him, accused him of being a mole and went behind his back in his own house. She made sure to be more careful with him this time around.

 

“You can’t make decisions for me” James protests.

“I’m just trying to give you whatever you need-”

“I don’t know what I need, okay?… I don’t” he shakes his head, raising his hands up from his sides. “You don’t need to worry about me. I see you looking at me like I’m some cut up abused dog in a pound that you want to rescue, but I’m fine, okay? I’ll heal.” He was putting on his old macho, sicario face, building his barriers back up.

James can sense that he’s hurt her by saying this. She had the same look on her face as she did when he told her he was leaving. When he walked away from her then, he didn’t see the tear fall down her face. This time he did.

He shuts his eyes in regret. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you.”

“No, you had every right to be. What do you need me to do?” She’s stood with her arms across her body, it's the only way for her to stop herself from reaching out to him.

He thinks for a split second — “Just be you. Be Teresa, the funny, kind woman I still-” he stops himself and just sighs, maybe its too soon for those three words. He retreats, “I need a smoke, I’m going outside.”

She nods and lets him leave, watching as he walks out onto the patio and into the garden. She walks back up to her… _their_ room. When they first met, they fought like children. And now, they talked things through like adults should do, giving each other space to breathe when they ask for it.

 

James sits down on one of the metal chairs alongside the glass topped table on the decking. He lights a cigarette and watches out over the end of the steeping garden, down into a small valley. He could feel the sun coming down on him and it reminded him of being back in Afghanistan many years ago, only this time, he had a much more pleasant view.

“My teachers said that cigarettes aren’t good for you.”

James is startled out of his daze by Tony beside him. “Oh yeah? What else did they tell you?” he amuses the teenager, taking another drag.

“That humans only use 10% of their brain, and that a pregnant goldfish is called a twit.” Tony laughs at his own sentence, James also letting out a low laugh.

“That sounds about right.” Taking one final drag of his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray beside him, knowing that Tony would probably make another comment if he didn’t put it out.

“Did it hurt?”

James turns his head to him, his brows slightly furrowed together. He knew what he was asking about. He relaxes his face and sniffs — “At first. After a while you just-” he exhales, “you get used to it.”

Tony nods his head and purses his lips. “You wanna play?” he asks with a cocky smile, gesturing to the garden with the ball he was holding out in front of him. 

James lets the corners of his mouth fold up into a vague smile, “Sure, why not?” He pats Tony on the shoulder and they make their way down onto the grass.

Teresa watches James and Tony kicking the ball on the lawn from her bedroom window. _What if all he needs is a normal life?_ If she’d have said this out loud, somebody would have thought that she was referring to the young boy, but she wasn’t. The worn in, battered and broken man before her, it was about _him_.

 

She came downstairs to find Pote making everybody lunch. Javier had already appeared and made his way outside to join in on the fun. Teresa followed the sound of laughter and perched herself at the edge of the patio, one foot brought up so her arm could rest across her knee. She watched as Javier was failing to take the ball from Tony and James in the little game they had going on.

“You still in love with him?” Pote says from behind her, making her jump suddenly. He was looking down at her as she watched James. She turns herself to eye Pote’s expression, her’s being neutral.

“I was married once remember, I know what that feeling looks like.”

Teresa’s lips twitch at his statement. She shakes her head gently — "I never stopped. Even after he left and we ended up here.” She says looking up at Pote, before turning her attention back to James. Pote gives her a small smile which she didn’t see.

“Do you still think it’d be a bad idea? Me and James?”

“No. But you need to trust him Teresita, otherwise, he’s gonna go again and you’ll lose him forever.” Teresa purses her lips and a tear starts to form in her eyes. “He’s even more damaged than _you_ now. You two are going to need to learn to let each other in. You’ll only get through this if you do it together.”

Pote leans down and places a hand on the back of Teresa’s head, before lightly kissing the top of her forehead. “You know James, just give him time, he’ll come around.” She closes her eyes and the single tear falls down her cheek. She’s not upset, she’s overwhelmed, accepting her feelings for what they are.

“Gracias Pote” she says sincerely, before he moves himself away back into the house, leaving Teresa, James, Javier and Tony in the garden.

She swivels back around to look towards her boys. James had noticed that Pote had gone back into the house. He looked up to Teresa, a sad smile and watery eyes on her face as she watches them fool around .

James had been showing off a trick with the ball that he’d learnt when he was around Tony’s age. “Here-” James says as he kicks the ball to Tony, “-see if you can figure out how to do it before I get back.”

“Ha! Easy, no problem!” Tony laughs cockily to James as he takes the ball from him. “We got this” Javier nods with a smug grin to Tony.

 

James walked up the sloping stretch of the grassy lawn to Teresa. She dropped her leg so they were both dangling down against the wood, whilst trying to rub away her tear. She knew he’d assume that there was something wrong, when in fact, it was the exact opposite of wrong. It was right. _This_ , him being here with them… was right. Whatever happened to him, she was willing to work on it, work on their relationship to move forward.

She watched him as he walked to her and stood at the edge of her knees, not too close.

“Hey, you okay?” he reaches his hand up and thumbs away the tear from her cheek before removing his hand back down to his side.

“Yeah” she sniffs and scrunches her face, trying to pull back any more tears. “Just glad you’re here, safe” she says to him, smiling so gracefully at the man in front of her. The only man she’d ever need… besides from Pote of course. James lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in since Teresa said ‘yeah’.

“Me too” he nods to her. Their words echoing parallel to their conversation at the party when Teresa came home from Bolivia, all cut up and bruised just like _he_ is now.

She opens her mouth as if to begin to say something, but gets interrupted by Tony shouting “Look James, we did it!” before she got the chance to speak. James swings his head around to watch as Tony does indeed manage to complete the trick. Javier on the other hand, fails, trips over his own feet and falls flat on his face, causing Pote to let out a loud belly laugh as he carried out the first of a few trays of food he’d prepared. James couldn’t help it, he laughed too. Teresa’s heart melted, it was so good to hear him laugh like that again, even if it was only for a few seconds.

——————

It’d been a week since they’d come home.

James was sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s tired. All of the adrenaline from the last few days was beginning to wear off, and he was starting to realise just how much sleep he had been lacking. He runs his hand over his face, through his hair and his beard, letting out the deepest sigh that anybody will have ever heard.

Teresa knew that his eating habits were a little all over the place. She doesn’t know how much he had eaten in the last four months, or how regularly he was brought food and drink. So she made sure that he always had something nearby if he needed it.

Teresa walked slowly through her bedroom doorway with a glass of water and a small sandwich in her hands. He looked to her out of the corner of his eye, acknowledging her presence but not really doing much else. He knew that she wanted to ask what exactly had happened to him, if there was anything she could do to make him feel better. He would have to talk to her about it at some point, but he didn’t know if he was quite ready to let it all out or not. Every time she asked if he was okay, he’d just brush it off and say he was fine. When not too deep down inside, he was actually hurting, and hurting on the outside just as much.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that every time he moved, every time he lay down or rested his back against a chair, every time he took a shower or got changed, it hurt. He was used to pain. But this was something else. His body stung more than anything, like he was covered in millions of inch deep paper cuts and being drizzled with lemon juice. _That_ kind of sting was beginning to fade into a general overall soreness. Like his body was just one big bruise.

Teresa hadn’t seen him yet. He hadn’t allowed it. He was still trying to process it himself, but he caught her staring at his arms a few times. It was safe to say that his tattoos were almost certainly ruined.

Teresa placed the food down on his nightstand by his side of their bed. He’d continued to stay in her room at night. She liked to think that it was giving him some form of comfort other than physical. She’d been out a few days ago and brought him some new clothes and things that he’d generally need, making space in her closet and bathroom for them.

“You alright?” she asks as she moves around to him. He pats his hand down on the bed next to him, gesturing for her to sit with him.

 

She waited for him to speak. If he was going to open up to her, she wouldn’t want to scare him off. He needs to do this in his own time.

“I met with Devon, and I left Phoenix with him. He said it would be the only option where I wouldn’t drag you down with me. I could never let that happen to you. So, I left. I knew it wasn’t gonna be good. I thought he’d just put me to work, I’d do some jobs for him and then he’d kill me once he was finished with me. I didn’t think that he’d just lock me in a room by myself, and then bring me out a couple of times a day to just be a punch bag for his men.”

Teresa closed her eyes at the thought of this, it was horrible. In her mind she could see him strung up like they did to Cortez, it wasn’t something she ever wanted to see again.

“Then they realised that I could take all of that, so they starting bringing out knives and blades and stuff instead. They didn’t stab me just-” he took a breath, “-cut me I guess.” He let out a few deeper breaths, and began to feel the weight on his shoulders lifting off of him.

From where she was sitting, Teresa could see three larger, newer cuts on this left side of his face, surrounded by a handful of minor scrapes and some older healing ones. Even if they all healed well, he was never going to look the same as he did before. She didn’t want to even imagine what they did to his body. If she wanted to get back to some form of relationship like they once had, she would need to let him reveal himself to her by his own accord, and be there for him when he did.

He hadn’t said anything for a little while, so she psyched herself up to speak.

“I thought you left because you didn’t want to work for me… to be with me.” She said, realising how wrong she was back then, lowering her head in shame at herself.

“I’d never choose to leave you Teresa. But _this_ , this wasn’t my choice. I got a call from Devon whilst the final deal with Camila and Cortez was going down. I had to make you believe it was my choice to leave, I didn’t want you to worry about me” he stops, re-collecting his worried voice. She brings herself up to look at him. “He was going to kill you.” James moves his attention back to her eyes.

“What happened to not getting caught in crossfire meant for me?” She'd gotten into a habit of repeating his own words back to him.

“Teresa—” he pauses, “I’d rather stand all day in the crossfire than let you die. You mean too much to me, I think you know that.” Teresa purses her lips, struggling to hold back from crying a flood and spilling her heart out onto him.

James notices how much she cares for him too, and puts his pain aside to bring her in to his body, wrapping his arms around her. He nuzzles his nose into her hair and it smells just like it did the last time he hugged her. She buries her face into his neck, and it takes a few seconds before she brings her hands up his back to his shoulders. James winces at the sensation, causing Teresa to pull back — “I’m so sorry” she says desperately. His eyes are closed as he breathes through the dulling pain.

“James…” she stoops her face below his to see his expression clearer. He opens his eyes to meet hers, and decides that now is as good a time as any for him to show her.

He takes her hands and places them at the hem of his shirt. Teresa realises what he’s wanting her to do, “are you sure?”.

He nods gently.

Teresa tries as best as she can to be careful, as she raises his loose shirt slowly up and over his head. She drops it down gently onto the bed behind them, before turning to view what she was dreading.

She hides her reaction on her face. He’s resorted to looking down at his feet on the rug that lays at the end of her bed. He’s a mess, and he didn’t need her telling him that in any way. They breathe slowly together, letting her take him in before anything else happens. She wants to reach out to every unmarked area to let him feel a gentle touch for once, but there’s not much space of that left. She swallows whatever comment it is that she is thinking, takes his hand into hers, using the other to gently hold the side of his face, turning him to face her.

Teresa looks deep into his dark broken eyes. _How can one man hold so much emotion in their eyes?_ He’s looking at her like a sad puppy that just needs love, and thats what she’s going to give him.

“You don’t need to be ashamed. I’m here for you. _I love you_ , no matter what. We’re in this together, you don’t have to hide from me.” She virtually quotes all of their phrases at him, adding in an ‘I love you’ so easily, like the words were always meant to roll off of her tongue to James, and only James.

It didn’t take much more than that for the last of James’ walls to come crumbling down. This, right here, is the dream that he’d held onto for four months. The hope that one day he’d be back with her and they’d get to say this to each other.

“I love you” he echoes.

And just like that, all of the tension he’d built up just disappears. James closes the distance between them, bringing his hand up to hold the side of her face as they met. He’d missed her kiss so much. When she holds him, all of _his_ pain goes away, and when he holds her, all of _her_ pain goes away. They complete each other in every way.

In a feat of relief and overwhelming emotion, James tells her — “I missed you so much”, as they rest their foreheads together.

“I know” she cries, “I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWWWWW  
> they fight but they TALK THINGS THROUGH LIKE F*CKING ADULTS because they're in love FINALLY


	7. Chapter 7

They didn’t know how long they were going to lead this life. Or if they’d be able to get out and escape for good. Teresa wanted to get out and have a family, have a normal life, more than everybody thought she did.

James was getting on well with Tony. Every now and then Teresa could see glimmers of his paternal nature come through. She put it down to his protectiveness, but he was genuinely good with Tony. He seemed to find solace in having the young man around.

Tony was the prime example that you could be happy after going through a storm. He had lost his father, and then his mother, and then he lost Teresa when she had to run to Malta, leaving him in America. But now they were all together and things were good.

Tony somehow had a way of making James open up; he kept telling him little bits about his life, about him, that even Teresa didn’t know. Like how strawberries are his favourite fruit, and that he once had a black Labrador called Jet. Teresa didn’t mind, as long as he was opening up to somebody. She’d explained to Tony about who James was, and what he’d done for her and her business when they arrived in France. Tony didn’t seem to have a problem with him, so long as he made Teresa happy and kept her safe.

 

It had been a month since they’d arrived back in France. James’ bruises were almost fully healed up, with some of the larger ones on his torso still coloured brown and green. He’d started to gain his weight back to how he was normally, building up his strength, if not making himself a little leaner than he was before he left Phoenix. Most of his smaller cuts were nearly gone too, while the larger, deeper ones were definitely beginning to leave their scars on his skin. He didn’t mind the marks too much anymore. Teresa loved him for who he was not what he looked like, and she made this point to him quite clear when they were alone.

Things were great between him and Teresa. After their conversation about what happened to James, when he showed her his new scars, they spent the night together. It was gentle, like they were together for the very first time again. She was careful not to hurt him, and he was his usual gentlemanly self. The next time was a little more passionate, and then a little more, and then a little more... you can imagine how that story goes.

On a professional note, Teresa had started to slowly reintroduce James back into the business, but more of as a mentor to Javier. Given Javier’s recklessness, he was needing a soldier to teach him a thing or two about obedience. She was reluctant to let James back in completely as her second, after seeing how happy he was here away from the business. But she knew there was no stopping him from finding his way back in eventually.

 

“Hey” he says as he walks into the kitchen. Tony and Teresa were gathering their things to leave.

“Hey” she returns, checking her bag for her keys, purse, phone, etc.

“Going somewhere?” James asks, leaning across the kitchen counter.

“Its market day, Tony wants to get some things for a recipe he found in one of the cookbooks. Apparently, he’s going to be a chef now.” Teresa says, raising an eyebrow up at James.

“Do NOT deter the child from wanting to cook good food.” Pote’s voice comes booming over from the corner, putting a smile on everyone’s faces. He’d been enjoying the slower life in France, and was happy about being surrounded by good food and good wine. Although his French was terrible, he still insisted on ‘reading’ the newspaper every day.

Teresa brings her attention back around to James, “You want to come?”

“Erh…” James pulled the edges of his shirt sleeves over his hands, still uncertain about how his broken appearance might go down in a friendly, domestic French town. He was yet to leave the grounds of the safe house.

“Don’t worry, they’re nice people. And you’ll have to get out sometime, you can’t stay in this house forever” she reassures him, giving him a smile.

He rolls his eyes playfully at her. “I could try” he says sarcastically, before turning to go put on some shoes.

 

He’d missed being out driving a car. Teresa wasn’t too sure about letting him drive after so long away from being behind a wheel, but he insisted. She gave him directions to the market town where they’d hope to spend the next hour or so. They drive in peace through the hills and past the scattered vineyards of the wine region. “We should probably get some wine while we’re here too” Teresa said.

“Why? We got something to celebrate?” James questions her, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t know, maybe.” James throws her a sideways glance before looking in the mirror at Tony, who simply shrugs off an ‘I don’t know’.

 

They’d been walking around the market for 15 minutes, stopping at every stall so far. In a past life, James would have hated how slow everything was, but he doesn’t seem to mind this easier life now. Tony had spotted a stall ahead which looked like it had the exact things he wanted, so he ran off towards it as if it were going to run away. “Tony!” Teresa almost shouts out loud, as she lets go of James’ hand and follows after him, leaving James to trundle along behind.

James continued to float around a few stalls that were selling old books and music records, greeting the stall owners as he walked by. He picked up a couple of things here and there, just glancing at them to pass the time.

Then, something in James told him to stop for a second. His gut has always been good at telling him what to do, so there was no reason for him not to listen to it this time. He moves over and waits by the edge of a stall, glancing at everything and everyone around him. He feels a little on edge, like the old James always was 24/7. His sniper eyes like an eagle watching everyone.

 _Its just an old market town, and nobody_ (besides from the people they trust back in Phoenix) _knows Teresa is even in France_. _She’s safe. We’re safe._

James felt extra protective, especially as they had Tony with them. After what he did to that little girl in Texas, he couldn’t no, _wouldn’t_ let anything happen to Tony.

But maybe his worry was for the wrong person. James turned his attention to look over at Teresa and Tony.

Theres a small older woman standing with them, shaking Teresa’s hand.

“So you did move here, and this must be your son?” James hears the woman say, over the rustling noise of the market place.

She’s stood almost completely with her back to him, but he recognises her voice.

The solidness of his face drops and he just stands there, watching, waiting. For once, he has no idea what to do. His heart is racing.

“Yes, this is Tony” Teresa replies, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Bonjour” He says with a smile to the lady, reaching out and shaking her hand. “Ah, oui bonjour!” she responds.

Tony looks over to where they left James, only to see he wasn’t there anymore — “Hey, where’s James?” Teresa looks to him with slightly wider eyes and then back to James’ grandmother, Anne.

“Oh, my-erh-my partner.” She explains, nodding her way through the truth.

“Oh, he’s here?” she asks.

“He was-” Teresa says through slightly gritted teeth, labouring out the length of her ‘was’, looking around to try and spot him.

“Ah well he can’t have wandered off far. I’ll let you go and find him” the lady says with a smile, before waving them off and disappearing out into the market.

Teresa’s concern grows. Maybe he spotted them, recognised her and got scared. “Have you got what you need Tony?”

“Si”

“Okay, let’s go find him and go home.” Teresa takes out her phone and calls James.

“Hey, where are you?”

“I’m at the car.” His voice is monotoned and straight to the point.

“Okay, we’ll be there soon.”

 

As Teresa approaches their car, she sees James leaned back against it, smoking a cigarette. She scoffs in disappointment at him, handing her couple of bags to Tony, telling him to get in the car. Tony didn’t ask any questions, just did as he was told.

“I thought you quit” she says, more of a statement than a question, as she moves to stand next to him. James breathes out a puff of smoke, dropping and stamping out the cigarette butt. He looks at Tony in the car, before tilting his head over to a low wall about 10 feet away. Far enough so that Tony shouldn’t hear them talking, but not far enough that he couldn’t turn around and look out of the rear window, and still see them speaking clearly.

“That was her” he didn’t know wether it was more of a question or a statement.

“Yes, she just spotted me and then Tony, she just wanted to say hello to us.” James struggles to focus on her eyes, so opts for looking down at his feet instead, tucking both hands into the pockets of his zip-up hoodie.

“Why did you leave?” Teresa asks, placing her hand on his wrist.

“Because look at me! I haven’t seen her since I was 18, I haven’t even spoken to her. I’m her only grandchild and she probably thinks I died overseas and nobody told her. If I turn up now-” James shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders “what’s she gonna think?” He was once again a little more stern than he’d like to have been.

“She’s not going to care.” A small voice speaks from beside them. _How was Tony so good at sneaking up on James?_ Both James and Teresa look down to Tony and he repeats himself.

“She’s not going to care what you look like, or that you haven’t seen her in so long. She’s only going to care that you’re alive. She’ll forgive everything else, just as long as she knows you’re safe.”

_Why was this kid always right?_

Teresa looks up to James, as he places his hand around Tony’s shoulder. “You’re annoying, do you know that?” James asked jokingly.

“Mhm yep, you tell me all of the time” Tony smiles back at them both. “Now can we go I’m starving” he says as he turns and puts himself back into the car. He wasn’t asking them to leave, he was _telling_ them.

James sighs and puts Teresa’s hand in his, bringing them up to kiss the back of her hand before leading her over to the car and opening her door for her, like he always used to do.

 

On the drive back home, Teresa began to feel a little nauseous, putting it down to some dodgy market food samples that she tried, which had probably been sitting out in the sun for far too long.

 

Tony cooked for everybody that night. He asked Pote nicely to borrow one of his cookbooks, which is where he found the recipes for a soup starter and beef bourguignon. Pote thought that the main course was probably going to be a bit too much for Tony and so floated around the kitchen to help.

 

After dinner, Teresa still felt a little sick. She wasn’t one to get ill very often, so excused herself from the table to hide in her room. James had noticed she was a little off, so followed her upstairs after finishing off his plate.

“You alright?” He stood in the bathroom doorway, as Teresa leaned slightly over the sink.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine” she says, not using the energy to look at him, but shift her weight cyclically from one leg to the other. He turned around to the set of drawers next to the bathroom doorway, placing down a glass of water and a couple of pills.

James had an idea of what could be wrong with her. He’d been around enough women to know when something was wrong, but knew not to ask questions or to pry, just make sure that they had what they wanted. “Okay, well if you need anything, just let me know.”

Teresa thanked him and he left her in peace, moving back downstairs to play video games with the others.

Almost on cue as he shut the door, she heaved up into the sink.

Well... maybe it wasn’t dodgy food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooo....  
> we met the grandmother!  
> but the ending though..... OOOOOOOOO......  
> not many chapters left after this...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse my french, its pretty terrible...

It was two days after Tony’s words to James in the market car park, and he now found himself driving a short distance to the old familiar village that he once knew. He didn’t know if he could really call it a village, it was more like a collection of about 15 houses that shared the same plot of land. He remembered there being an old well in the middle of a grassy communal area. Every other week, the families in the houses used to host one massive picnic around the well, each house bringing out a table or some chairs. If it rained, then everyone would gather in the farmer’s house as it was the largest of them all.

The car ride was quiet, it was about half past 6 in the evening. James was thinking over what he was going to say, how could he possibly explain the last 14 years of his life?

 

They pulled up to the end of a cobbled driveway. James took a minute to just look at the house, trying to calm his nerves. It was still the same on the outside; a painted blue door, black steel gate leading to a path into the house, flower boxes below the windowsills.  

His knuckles were white as he gripped his hands around the steering wheel. Teresa reached over and covered one of his hands with hers, it seemed to slow his heart and bring his breathing down to around normal. But the butterflies in his stomach were still fighting each other. Teresa let out a breath.

“I’ll go” Teresa says as she goes to open her door.

“What? How’s that going to work?” James says as he stops her. Teresa turns back to him, not quite knowing what she could possibly answer with.

He shakes his head, “No, this needs to come from me.” And with that, he’d mustered up the courage to get out of the car and make the walk up to her front door. Teresa couldn’t let him do this alone, after all, she was the reason why he was now in this predicament. She got out of the car and followed behind him at a reasonable distance.

He stood at her doorstep for a second before knocking on her door, taking in and letting out a deep breath.

The little old lady opens her door slowly, “oui?” _{yes?}_ she asks as she pulls it open, stopping herself as she realises just who exactly was infront of her.

James’ breathing is unsteady, his eyes and mouth twitching as if he were about to cry. Anne’s mouth drops open and she nearly bursts into tears on her doorstep, reaching up to pull him down to her and into a tight embrace.

“Jamie-” she says with a small cry, her face resting into his shoulder.

“It’s me… it’s me” he reassures her, his voice getting quieter.

She couldn’t believe it. She pulled back and held the sides of his face tenderly. James was so much taller than her. He’s more of a man now than the boy that she waved goodbye to. Her chin trembles as she takes in his appearance. He stood differently, holding himself higher and more confidently than she remembers. The military definitely did some good to him.

She notices the edge of a figure standing behind him, so she peers around his side - “Teresa?”

Teresa had been standing a little tense with her hands rubbing together, as if she were cracking her knuckles. She raises a hand slightly to give a little wave ‘hello’.

“Je ne comprend pas-” _{I don’t understand}_ she looks back and forth from James to Teresa.

“Let me explain? S'il vous plaît?” _{…please?}_ James takes her hands off of his arms and puts them into his. She nods her head slowly and moves aside to allow them both in.

 

It was a lot for her to take in. James tried as best as he could to explain the last 14 years, from serving overseas, his platoon’s bombing and being discharged, to working for a Texan drug cartel, being tortured (to explain his scarring) and finally Teresa. He tried to leave Teresa’s business out of the story as much as he could, but he knew he couldn’t leave her out completely. As much as it sounds strange for their situation, Teresa is a good person, and he loves her. _This_ he tried to emphasise to Anne.

 

Teresa left them alone in the living room, giving James time and space to explain. She was waiting in the dining room, pulling a couple of books from the bookcase and briefly reading them over. She stood for a while looking at a couple of small, framed baby photos on one of the shelves of the bookcase. One was a very old black and white photo, it must have been Anne when she was a baby, or maybe her husband who passed away before James was born. Another photo was newer, in colour but still old. The baby was fair and light haired. Teresa thought that it must have been James’ mother, after all, James’ hair was as dark as midnight. The third and final photo was absolutely James. The baby had the exact same cheeky grin on their face as James gets when you offer him a rib-eye steak or even a candy bar. The baby’s hair was thick for its age, dark and curly... most definitely James.

Teresa thought back to how she was in her bathroom two nights ago. And how maybe things could have turned out differently, with her staring, smiling at pictures of her own newborn before the year was over.

After she tidied herself up, she went downstairs to the kitchen and picked up the bottle of wine that she had bought from the market and left out on a counter, intending for her men to be drinking it while she sipped a glass of water. She examined it before sighing to herself quietly, “maybe another time.” She took the bottle and hid it away in the back of a cupboard which didn’t have much else in it. There wasn’t anything to celebrate anymore.

She didn’t know for definite if she was pregnant or not. Teresa was three weeks late... until she wasn’t. She didn’t cry too much, these things happen. And she didn’t tell James, he had enough to deal with right now. She didn’t want him thinking that it was his fault in any way, because she knew he’d find a way to blame himself. So this she kept this as a secret just to herself for now. _He’d be heartbroken if he knew._

That night, James woke up around 2am to hear Teresa sobbing next to him. He quickly lifted himself up and pulled her into his chest. She brought her knees up to her chest as he cradled her. He tried to ask her what was wrong but she didn't answer him, so he stroked her hair and rocked her gently for the next half an hour until she calmed down. It was then when she told him what had happened. He didn't't say much, in fact he didn't say anything at all other than "it's okay". He wanted to reassure her, let her know that nothing was going to change between them, but his words failed him this time. James was strong for her, her rock to lean on as she cried herself to sleep. He never let her go, wanting her to feel safe all through the night. He allowed himself to let go of a few tears, before falling asleep with his head rested back against the headboard.

 

“Teresa-” James stood in the doorway, holding out his hand for her to take and follow him into the living room. She was still yet to explain her side of the story.

Teresa sat next to James, across from Anne.“James told me once about you, and he gave me your address. When I came to France, it was true that I was moving to the area, the ports in Cannes are useful for my business. I came to you because I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I thought James had walked away from the business, and when I found out what had happened to him, I had to bring him back to France with me. I couldn’t lose him again.”

The room is silent as the lady thinks over everything she’s been told.

At some point, James had moved his hand to hold Teresa’s. Anne noticed this, the respect and care he took with Teresa, not like the way he used to treat the French girls that he would string along whilst he was here with her. She could tell straight away that he loved her.

“I’m just happy you’re safe, and you’re home.” Anne smiles up to James, and he returns a crooked, relieved smile.

For the next hour or so they talk about everything else that they’d missed of eachother’s lives, and Teresa was learning a lot more about James’ past than he’d ever really told her. The mood was more relaxed, Anne had brought out food and drinks and put some old records on in the background. The house hadn’t changed much since he left. Of course there were new things here and there, but there were still the same pictures hanging on the walls, the same ticking clock above the fireplace, the same worn out old doorstop propping the living room door open.

 

They where chatting about nothing in particular when Teresa felt a buzz coming from her pocket and excused herself from the room, making her way into the kitchen. Teresa looked down at her phone, a text from George in Phoenix: “ _We need to talk baby girl, I think we got a problem_ ” She could tell that this wasn’t going to be good news. She went back into the living room to break up the party.

“I’m sorry, James we have to get home, we need to call Phoenix.”

James looks back from Teresa to Anne, “donne moi ta main, Jamie” _{give me your hand, Jamie}_ she says, and he obliges. She rolls it over and uses a pen from the coffee table to write down her phone number for him. It seemed odd, she could have just asked for his phone to type it in, but looking around, she was still very much old fashioned this way.

“Nous reparlerons bientôt” _{we will talk again soon}_ she smiles to him, before reaching her hand to rub at his cheek. He may have been a fully grown adult who has seen and done more bad things in life than anybody should have to, but he was still her grandson, still the boy at heart that she used to know. He kisses her cheek and she hugs him goodbye before James leads Teresa hand in hand out of the door to their car.

Having a new vehicle show up to a small town had caused a few of Anne’s neighbours to peek their eyes around their curtains to see what was going on. Teresa had noticed James looking around at the people being nosy. “Just ignore them” she says under her breath to him, as she lowers herself into the car.

 

“What did the text say?” James asked as he drove a little quicker through the roads than before. Teresa read him George’s text, “What did you respond with?”

“Just that we’d be home soon and would call him in 20 minutes. Something’s wrong, I don’t feel right.” Teresa says as she shakes her head.

James looks to her with slightly alarmed eyes, “are you okay?”. He’s worried about her, _again_.

“I’m fine, I meant that something feels wrong about George’s text.” James looks back to the road, realising he’d misinterpreted what she originally said.

 

They walked through the front door and into the kitchen, Tony was helping Pote clean up after dinner whilst Javier was sat scrolling through his phone with a beer in his free hand.

“How’d it go?” Pote asks, wiping a pan dry with a towel.

“Not now, Tony can you go upstairs please?” Teresa says, moving over to usher him out with her arm.

“What’s wrong?” Javier looks up from his bottle. Teresa says nothing until James comes hurtling back downstairs with her laptop in his hands, passing it to her on the counter.

“George text me, he says they’ve got a problem” she tells the pair as she opens up her laptop. She logs in and waits for George to answer her video call, her three men standing tense behind her.

“Hey, darlin’-” George starts, but not with his usual upbeat self.

“George, what’s happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that took quite a few turns eh?  
> I loved how all of you were excited for a pregnant teresa... but I write sins, not tragedies... you should know that by now ... Queen of all Evil :)  
> I suggest you keep reading... things could get better for jeresa


	9. Chapter 9

James has his head dropped, rubbing his hand back and forth along his forehead. Nobody knows what to say. The call to George wasn’t good, and lasted longer than she thought it would. Devon Finch had raided her warehouse beneath the winery in Phoenix, taking everything and leaving no one. Teresa was glad that nobody who she cared about that much was there when it happened, just a couple of low level guards and some workers. George said that it all happened so fast, that they didn’t have time to react, and that when they eventually got there with backup, all of Devon’s people were gone and there was nothing they could do. 

Devon had left a note though, stuck to a table with one of her men’s blood. It read, “ _We will come for you Teresa, your game is up_ ”.

“What would he want with us anymore?” Teresa asks the room, her voice worried.

“I thought you said everything was good?” Pote asks back at her, growing impatient with this back and forth war between them and Devon.

“It was. El santo gave himself up, Devon had what he wanted - the Bolivian market is gone he has no reason to-”

“You stole _me_ from him-” James interrupts her, thinking out loud. “He’s lost his leverage against you.” He crossed his arms over his chest, bringing his head up to look at her, and then at Pote and Javier - “ _you_ killed his men.” Next, he addresses the whole room — “You tricked him in the first place, you didn’t play by Devon’s rules...”  his sentence wanders off, not knowing how to end it. Teresa knew in her gut that it was something more than the fact that they took James from him and killed a couple of his men.

Javier chimes in — “So we play a new game.”

———————

**[The next night]**

It was late, about 11:45pm, and it was dark. The tension and frustration hanging around in the house like smoke was getting a little too much for James. He walked up to Tony’s room to check on him before coming back downstairs. He kissed Teresa when he said goodbye, Pote and Javier nodding to him as he left. He opened one of the garage doors and drove out of their property. A late night drive had always been good at clearing James’ mind. Teresa wanted to go to America to talk things through with Devon and everybody was reluctant to let her leave. Coming up with a plan was harder than they thought it would be, and James thought that some fresh air would give him a new perspective on their problem.

There weren’t any streetlights around as James drove through the countryside between the rolling hills. His only light was coming from one headlight on the car, _they’d been meaning to get those fixed_. So it was only natural that James never saw the fairly large truck reversing out from one of the winery driveways. And it wasn’t long before James’ vision faded to black. The sound of his car horn growing distant in his ears.

———————

His funeral was small and quaint, yet beautiful. All of the flowers present at his service were hand picked by Anne and Teresa from Anne’s garden and the meadow overlooked by the safehouse. James always loved the view of the flowers from Teresa’s bathroom. Only a handful of people were there; Teresa, Anne, Pote, Tony, Javier. George made the trip over as soon as he heard the news. James didn’t really know anybody else, nobody that would bother travelling for almost a day to go to his service.

Teresa fell to her knees as they lowered the coffin into the ground, heartbroken. She had thought that she would be able to stay strong and get through it, but she couldn’t.

After the funeral, Teresa gave Anne James’ final letter, the one that she’d promised to give to her if anything happened to him. Anne took it away with her, reading it through once she could muster up the courage to open it. She’d only just gotten her grandson back, and he was taken away from her again too soon.

———————

It had now been over a year since they’d rescued George, since they’d killed Cortez, since Boaz had agreed to work with them, since Teresa left for France and since James was captured by Devon. Camila, nobody knew where she was. Everybody assumed that somebody else had already gotten ahold of her, or that she’d gone into hiding.

Teresa stood alone in the church cemetery. It was almost 4 weeks since the accident. She’d brought fresh flowers to the grave every other day, and visited Anne more and more often as time went on. Teresa couldn’t stand to drive herself anywhere, so Pote had adopted the chauffeur role to take her out when she needed him to. Her bed had grown cold, but she was growing even colder. She kept thinking back to all of their nights together, all of the words they never said, every time they saved eachother. She was so angry that this is how he left her, after everything that they still could have done together. In her mind, she’d always thought that James was her ride or die, and _he was_ , he made this very clear. If one of them were to die, it should be in a fight to save the other’s life.

———————

Teresa stood alone in an old gas station on an abandoned dirt road. There wasn’t another building for around 200 yards, which almost looked in a worse state than the gas station. She had Ivan send Devon Finch a message, of a date and a time and a place in a neutral territory. Somewhere where neither of them would hold power over the other. She was surprised when he responded, agreeing to meet.

Teresa was tired, fed up of waiting around for Devon’s people to come and get her, to come and kill her. She wanted to get things with Devon finished. Whatever it was, she was sure that they could sort it out.

 

It was almost dark out. When Devon arrived, he remained in his car whilst his two men searched Teresa, her rented car and the gas station. There was no weapon, no backup. She was well and truly alone this time.

Devon got out of his car and moved himself to stand a good distance in front of her. “Where’s your boy that you took from me? I thought he would have at least come with you.”

The solidness on her face breaks, and she’s uneasy.

“He died last month.” She holds back a tear, dropping her attention to the ground for a second before looking back at him.Devon can see the pain on her face.

“I’m sorry.” He seemed to be sincere when he said that. He may have taunted James for months, but he was actually quite fond of him for his skills. “How did it happen?” he cocked his head to one side, almost like he cared.

“It was a car accident.”

Devon raised his eyebrows and almost tuts, “what a shame, such a waste of talent.”

Teresa shakes her head solemnly. _How dare he speak about James like that after what he did to him._ “I’m here Devon-” she stiffens, bringing the subject as far away from its current line as she can get it. “What do you want from me?”

Devon takes his time with her. “You told El Santo to give himself up?"

Teresa drops her head into a nod, "yes".

"Well he never came to our meeting point in Bolivia like he promised he would, like he promised on his son’s life.”

Teresa seems shocked by his statement, bringing her head back up higher. “He betrayed you.”

“He betrayed us both Teresa, he knew what would happen to you if he ran. We have no idea where he is, unless… you do?” he questions her.

Teresa rolls her eyes to the ground once more. “I have lost everything-” she almost chokes on her own words. “You destroyed my warehouse because he didn’t turn himself in. Why would I be in contact with him?”

“I think you're lying to me, because as much as it would be a bad idea, you have a connection to him and his followers. He would be the one to restart your business back up again if you asked him to. The Colombians won’t work with you Teresa, not after this.”

Teresa doesn't back down. “You’re right. But I’m not going to give him up to you.” she insists.

“Then I’m afraid Miss Mendoza, that you are no longer useful to me nor the CIA, not if you're not willing to cooperate. You've just made a mess of our last deal. And I can’t let you walk away from this.” Devon’s words begin to make Teresa anxious. “I’m sorry Teresa.”

She furrows her brows at him, lowering her hands down to her sides.

Then, a shot rang from behind Devon, the bullet flying straight into Teresa’s chest. Devon didn’t even flinch, he knew it was coming. The force of the shot flung her backwards onto the ground. Devon watched from a distance as the life was being pulled out of her, before turning to his two men and walking away, leaving her bleeding out on the cold ground. It was only a minute before her vision went white. She could see her love's face infront of her. And then she faded out to black.

 

Devon gets into the back of his car and begins to drive away from the old abandoned gas station.

“Its done. Your sniper shot Miss Mendoza, he will be burying her as we speak.”

“Good, well done. Come to the office when you can and we’ll give you your papers, you are free to leave. Thank you for the work you did for us. Goodbye Finch.” The call hangs up, and Devon Finch disappears into the horizon.

———————

It was one week since the meeting with Devon. The beeping of a monitor was growing louder, her heartbeat being put into sound. Teresa felt the heaviness in her chest as it rose up and down. She could feel her hands, they were warm. Her eyes drifted slowly open.

 

“Teresa-” a voice from beside her said. She turned her head, following in its direction. “Hey” the voice said again softly, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Pote?” Teresa says, focussing her eyes on his features. He squeezes her hand in his.

“Its okay-” he reassures her, “-you’re alright, everything will be fine.”

“Pote-” she says, wincing in pain as she breathed out a little too heavily, “I thought I saw him”.

“Who?”

“James” she says his name so softly, so easily.

Pote gives her a soft smile and reached to stroke her hair. “Sshhh” he calms her, “its gonna be okay.” Teresa looks back up to the ceiling, letting a small tear escape down her eye and roll down her cheek.

———————

It was two weeks since Teresa woke up in the ‘underground’ private hospital in France. It was extremely off the radar, and Teresa was booked in under a false name. There was a reason why European criminals called it the ‘most expensive hospital on earth’. These doctors had a way of making people disappear in exchange for a lot of cash.

 

She recovered well, that sniper did a rubbish job of trying to kill her. They should have gone for a headshot. It wasn’t long before she was up and walking again, desperate to get out of the hospital room. Pote stayed with her, never leaving her side. He was always there to keep her steady. Every time she doubted herself, he was there.

Once she was able to, Teresa cut her hair shorter and dyed it lighter than her dark curls had previously been. Maybe it was time for a change? The CIA tried to kill her, and they failed.

When she was discharged, Pote drove her out to the coast. Most of the drive was quiet, the two of them just breezing along, listening to the radio. 

 

Teresa felt safe pulling up to a terraced house on the seafront. She couldn’t get out of the car quick enough when she saw an excited Tony running out of the front door. They moved towards each other and she held him in her arms.

“I missed you” he says, squeezing her tighter. He was so relieved that she made it back to him alive.

“I’ve missed you too” she replies, kissing the top of his head. He was almost getting too tall for her to be able to do that anymore.

Before she left for one final time to America, Teresa relocated Tony with Anne to a new house, giving them money and enough to live on, just in case she didn’t come back. She promised them that it was only temporary, and that it wouldn’t be for too long either. But even _she_ had her doubts in her promises.

 

Anne stood relaxed in the doorway.

Teresa looked up to her — “Is he here?” she asked, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 

Anne said nothing, but simply smiled.

 

**_[ to be continued… ]_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O  
> So I killed James...  
> So you really will need to read the final chapter which wraps up the entire of this story!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it... the finale chapter...

Teresa let go of Tony, moving forwards through the rickety, old open gate and up the set of steps into the front doorway of the house. She didn’t have to move too far before she saw his figure, silhouetted at the end of the hall. Her heart stopped in her chest.

Three months without James Valdez had been way too long.

 

“James?” she stood, shaking like a leaf with her voice to match. The butterflies in her stomach flying around faster and faster. She needed to hold him again like she needed the air in her lungs.

The man smiled to himself before turning around and moving towards her, faster than he’d ever moved before. He picked her up by her waist and held her, burying his face in her neck. Twirling her around as she gripped onto him so tightly. Teresa’s chest was still sore from her bullet wound, but she didn’t care. She was never in pain when she was with him.

When he eventually put her down, he had tears in his eyes. James had been waiting for this day ever since he watched her drive away, almost dead in the back of a van. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed for many days after, hoping that he didn’t kill her that night.

 

Teresa’s plan was ridiculous, but he could see the sense in it, even with all of its risks.

What if he had actually been killed that night when the van driver reversed into him? He knew that he had to cause an accident which could have been serious enough to kill him. The single headlight on their tiny sports car was on purpose, James smashed the other before he left the house. The pills that he took to slow his heart rate down (so that anybody would think he was dead upon arrival) worked, and the underground hospital took care of him to bring him back to good health.

_If one of them were to die, it should be in a fight to save the other’s life._

 

Teresa then had to tip off a funeral company to bury a coffin weighted with rocks, approximately matching James’ dead weight, and then pay them again to keep quiet about it all. Teresa visited the grave every other day to keep up appearances of a grieving widow.

As far as the community was concerned, Anne’s grandson was dead and buried. Anne of course was informed on the plan. She didn’t like it and she had her doubts, but she agreed to play her part. She put on a brave face and detached herself a little from the community, only really allowing visits from Teresa and her ‘son’ Tony. Tony pretended that his father had died, something which he already had experience with. Teresa had told him that if all went according to plan, then he would be moving to live with Anne whilst Teresa recovered. Both Anne and Tony agreed to this, and began to spend more time together in the month leading up to Teresa’s departure from France. Anne taught him how to cook traditional French cuisine and pastries, while Tony helped her around the house and garden.

 

Once James was well enough to leave the hospital, he made his way to a port to board one of George’s ships. His destination: the old gas station. George had organised transport for James to the nearest town. George’s man dropped him off and James began the long, two-day hike to the gas station. Teresa had taken a gamble in picking this spot to meet Devon. The only place for James to nest and wait was about 200 yards away. Even in the midday sun, that would have been one hell of a shot, and James was in darkness, with only one chance to get it right.

 

When Teresa told him that she wanted him to put a bullet in her chest, James nearly had a heart attack. He held the sides of her face and swore that he could never hurt her. Teresa shook her head, “I know, but I need you to do this.” She gripped onto the front of his shirt as his hold on her face loosened a little.

“There’s no other way?” He sighed, the worry in his voice was apparent. His hands trembled a little on her cheeks.

Teresa shook her head, so subtle that he might have missed it. James sighed again, heavily.

Teresa stood up onto her toes and kissed him, wrapping her hands up around the back of his neck and meshed her fingers into his hair. He kissed her back with a fair force and passion. He couldn’t believe that her life was literally going to be in his hands. They’d been in tense life or death situations before, but this one was by far going to be the worst of them all. Everything they had built was at stake.

 

Teresa’s last risk, was that she was counting on Devon to nest a sniper on the roof of that building, and that Devon wouldn’t try to kill her himself. They had agreed to a peaceful meeting, meaning that no weapons would be brought along. She’d told him she was going alone, but knew that he would still bring at least a couple of guards with him.

James showed up to the meeting point the day before the meet, waiting for a contractor to show up early to scope out the gas station. It turns out, Teresa was right, and James took out Devon’s man before Teresa or Devon arrived.

 

When they were together in France afterwards, one of James’ first conversations with Teresa went something like this:

“What did you do with the contractor?”

“It wasn’t easy dragging him off of that rooftop, but I buried him near the gas station. With any luck, the CIA will believe that he’s just gone off the grid. His payment will have been transferred to an account, they do everything online these days. You could have picked a spot to meet Devon which was a little less remote, it took me nearly two days to walk there.” He jokes to Teresa, as if it was a difficult thing for him, the military man, to do.

“I know, but it had to be believable. That was one hell of a shot.”

“Well, I am one hell of a sniper.” Teresa laughed at that but agreed with his remark. He both nearly killed her and saved her life with that _one hell of a shot_.

 

Teresa got to the gas station first. In the darkness, she could see James with a large flashlight above the building, using flashes like morse code to indicate to her where he wanted her to stand. A sort of ‘one light for left, two lights for right, no light to stay still’ kind of thing. Teresa marked the spot he had indicated with a small stone and waited for Devon’s arrival. This was the first contact she’d had with James in a month. She wished he was closer so that she could be near him. Knowing that he was there, 200 yards away, keeping her safe. That was enough for her.

She played Devon’s game, going along with the lines that he was feeding her. It was turning into a habit of hers to make Devon believe that he had the upper-hand in their confrontations. 

In reality, she had no idea where El Santo was, and when they were planning this whole operation, they figured out that he might not have showed up to meet Devon after all, since she never got any confirmation. She thought that this was the reason why Devon raided her warehouse and swore to come after her, but there was always the risk with him that it was about something else.

 

When Teresa thought that the timing was right, she lowered her hands from across her body to her side. This was her signal for James to fire. It was well placed and clean through, in an area where he knew she had a chance of surviving, but still looked like an intended kill shot from a contract killer 200 yards away.

 

James watched and waited for Devon to leave, banking on the fact that it would be the contractor’s job to bury Teresa. As soon as Devon got into his car and it began to drive off, James called Pote and Javier, who were waiting with a couple of Taza’s reservation doctors, about two miles down the dirt road in the opposite direction, out of sight. They came speeding up the road to help Teresa, before it was too late.

James left most of his things and rushed down the side of the building, running as fast as he could to help her. He took out gauze from a first aid bag and immediately applied pressure, packing her wound until the doctors arrived about 30 seconds later. The last thing she said before her lights went out was that she loved him, as he held her in his arms.

 

Teresa drove off in the back of the van with the doctors. Pote had promised him that he’d take care of her, and that she _would_ rejoin him in France. There was nothing else James could do now. To avoid any suspicion that either of them were alive, there was to be no contact between James and anybody else in Teresa’s team. After all, a dead man can’t text.

James stayed behind in the states for a couple of weeks after Teresa was shot, to make sure that everything was okay and that they’d gotten out clean. He kept an eye on Devon, and pretty soon Devon disappeared altogether, severing his connections with the government. When James thought it was safe, he made his way discretely back to France and joined Anne and Tony on the coast. It was too suspicious for him to show up to see Teresa, and somebody had to make sure that Anne and Tony were kept safe.

Javier was left to take care of the safe house, and it wasn’t long before any trace of them was wiped from the property and it was sold on to a wealthy family in the wine industry.

 

———————

 

It was nine months since James shot Teresa to fake her death and escape the business.

Javier was back in Mexico, and George and Taza were officially running, alongside Boaz, the Phoenix-Sinaloa corridor. Devon’s problem was with Teresa, not George or Taza or Boaz, so the Colombians continued to be their supplier.

Pote had taken some well earned time off after dropping Teresa at the house by the coast, making his way down to Spain for a while.

 

To the rest of the world, Teresa Mendoza and James Valdez were dead. They opted for new names when they were anywhere but in their own house. James was now called Peter, named after his grandfather, and Teresa went by Maria, her mother’s name.

 

Teresa and James had bought a large house in Switzerland. Tony was living with them, and James had persuaded Anne to come along too. Pote spent a few more weeks in Spain before coming back to them. He vowed to never leave Teresa’s side, so that’s the promise he honoured… even if it meant he had to make room for James.

 

It was done. Teresa had successfully gotten James, Pote, Tony and herself out safe, away from the drug business.

The beginning of the end.

 

———————

**[Sometime in the future, when everything was settled. Approximately 3 years later...]**

 

James slips an arm around Teresa and picks her up by the waist, lifting her down the short steps from the beach house to the sand. Teresa is screaming his name with laughter as she hovers at his side, kicking her legs around. “James what are you doing!?” The feeling of the gold on his ring finger was cold on her side.

 

Their fake names, passports and identities that George had sent them from Arizona allowed them to have a small ceremony in their back garden. George and Javier travelled from the states to attend their big day. George nearly screamed with excitement down the phone at Teresa when she told him the news of her engagement.

Pote walked Teresa down their make-shift isle in the garden, scattered with white rose petals, towards James, something which he never thought he would get the chance to do in his lifetime.

Their back garden had been decorated with white roses, lilies and germinis, and pretty string lights had been draped all around. Their wooden archway that James stood under was covered in flowers and white ribbon, and there were handmade candle lit lanterns placed all around.

Tony held the rings for them, whilst their golden labrador was sat at James’ side, a black bow-tie to match James' placed on his collar. James couldn’t decide between Pote, George, Tony and Javier, so chose their dog as his best man instead.

Anne stood with George and Javier (whom she’d taken quite a shine to) as they watched Teresa walk to James, dressed all in white. A few of their new friends were behind them, looking on towards the happy couple.

In the privacy of their home and the company of their old friends, Mr and Mrs Valdez has a certain ring to it that made each of them feel warm and full of butterflies inside. James had never been so happy in his entire life as he was the day they said ‘I do’.

 

Oh, apart from the day that his son was born, Tomás.

 

Tomás was never going to be a Valdez by name, but he was definitely a Valdez by blood. He had the same dark hair and curls as his father, but his skin and complexion was all Teresa. He was born about 7 months after their wedding. Teresa and James both cried when they found out about him in the first place. “I guess it's a good job we got married then” Teresa joked at James, before being pulled up into the best kiss of her life. Pote cried so many happy tears that he automatically started baking a cake. Tony was over the moon to be becoming an older brother, and already started picking out baby names. 

 

James made his way cautiously down the steps. As soon as his feet touched the warm white sand, he put her down and immediately threw her back up over his shoulder, holding onto her by the back of her knees, and accelerated towards the water.

“JAMES NO WHAT? NO, JAMES!” Teresa squeals as she’s being jolted up and down on his back, playfully slapping his rear end as he runs with her, putting a huge toothy smile on his face.

He doesn’t slow down at the water’s edge. Instead, carries her a few metres into the water before throwing her down — “James!” She screams as she hits the water, making full use of the new red two piece she’d bought especially for the trip. Even after having a child, she still looked amazing.

James is stood laughing as she comes up from underneath, the gentle waves coming forward to hit into them both. His upper body is still dry, so Teresa takes the opportunity to grab at the waistband of his swimming shorts, pulling him with a surprising force down into the water with her, the sound of his body making a clap as he breaks the small tidal wave. Now it’s Teresa’s turn to laugh at him, and before they know it, they’re frolicking around in the water, splashing each other like school children. They’re both soaked through, yet James’ hair somehow was managing to still stay dry. Teresa had noticed how his shorts stuck to him when they were wet, that was something to think about later...

A slightly stronger wave knocked James over. He was a couple of feet further out than she was, so Teresa initiated a cat and mouse chase along the beach, making a run for the other end.

There was nobody else around on this private stretch of coastline they’d hired for two weeks.

 

The getaway was James’ idea, he knew Teresa needed it but to be honest, he needed it more. Being the gentleman he was, he was the one offering to get up each night when Tomás was crying as a baby, needed changing at 2am, needed to be fed at 4am, or had a bad dream as a toddler. He made sure that he was the father to Tomás that his father wasn’t to him, a good one.

James had arranged the whole thing. It was the first time he’d had a holiday in well over 20 years. He’d forgotten what it felt like to not have to worry about work or business, though he still worried about how his son was coping being looked after by abuelo Pote back home. So he found the most secluded and beautiful stretch of beach in Italy that he could find. He told Teresa over dinner, which he himself cooked at the house. She was quite excited to hear that he’d booked them a two week getaway, just the two of them.

 

Teresa made a quick dash towards the north end of the beach, with James following her a few paces behind. He didn’t have to slow down to let her win, she had enough speed to outrun him any day, but her few yards advantage didn’t help his cause.

Teresa was teasing him as she ran. She turned to run backwards, trying to prove that he wouldn’t catch her, no matter what she was doing. This idea soon backfired on her as she tripped over her own feet and rolled backwards down into the sand. James let out a loud chuckle as he watched her fall down. He shouldn’t have laughed, but under the circumstance of her clumsiness, he couldn’t help it.

He slowed to a gentle jog towards her, defeated, sprawled out like a starfish in the sand.

James lowered himself into a press up-esque position over her. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was his. Those beautiful brown eyes that she’d admired for so long. It was so easy for her to get lost in them.

“Well that went well” James said snarkily to her, enough distance between them for them both to start to catch their breath comfortably.

Teresa had to smile at his remark. “Yeah, exactly how I planned it” she replied, both of their mouths turning up at the corners.

Teresa moved her hands up his sides and onto his biceps, wondering for how much longer he’d be able to hold himself up for. If he came crashing down onto her, she wouldn’t mind it that much.

After what felt like eternity of just looking into each other’s eyes, James bent his arms to close the gap between them. She brought her hands up to the back of his neck, before stretching her chin up so that her lips could meet his. It was pure bliss.

Their next few minutes were spent just making out in the sand, their hands everywhere. Doing this in the middle of a beach was a first for both of them.

The faint breeze of wind began to pick up. James knew where this encounter was headed, but he wasn’t too fond of the idea of getting sand in all kinds of odd places, and so pulled up and away from Teresa.

“What’s wrong?” - Teresa asked, her hands holding either side of his face.

James let out a small breathy smile and looked to the sand — “I spent half my life picking sand out of some terrible places in the desert, I’d rather not have to do that again.” He looked to Teresa with an eyebrow raised and a smug look across his face.

Teresa bit her bottom lip and tried to hold in a giggle. She nodded her head, she understood what he was talking about.

He stood to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. She took it and then remained holding it as they began to walk back to the beach house, interlocking their fingers while they walked. Teresa moved her left hand across her body to hold onto his wrist, above where their hands were interlaced. Her diamond engagement ring and golden wedding band to match his, shone in the sunlight.

As they got to the bottom of the steps, James stopped and bent down to scoop her up into his arms. She placed a gentle hand on the side of his face, turning it towards her to give him another kiss. He’d never been loved this way before Teresa came along, and oh my gosh did he enjoy it. He carried her up the wooden steps and through the open double doors, the wind blowing the long hanging nets into the house with them.

 

And the rest of the evening?

Well, the rest of their evening was amazing to say the least.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few days over 9 months later, their daughter, Margot, was born...

and their lives were officially complete.

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it made me laugh how none of you believed I killed off James again :'D  
> thank you all for reading this! I put a lot of thought into the story and tried to work out all of the kinks, super proud of this! :)  
> This chapter was all about rounding off the story, explaining everything and how it all went down.  
> And how could I resist writing married!Jeresa?!?!?!  
> And Teresa got her baby...no, BABIES after all!!  
> Happily ever after :)

**Author's Note:**

> oooooooooooooo what did devon do with James?!?! Will Teresa make the deal?!?! Or will she try to get everybody out alive???


End file.
